


Falling Stars

by LegendofMajora



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Family, Horror, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rape Aftermath, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-01
Updated: 2015-09-01
Packaged: 2018-04-18 12:23:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4705862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LegendofMajora/pseuds/LegendofMajora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Izaya doesn't think that these low-life yakuza would want more than to kidnap his sisters for a show of dominance. Not to make an example out of him instead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Falling Stars

In the solemn feel of the slick cold of his bedsheets slipping through his fingers, Izaya counts the swirling patterns on the ceiling with tired eyes. Under his hazy gaze they spin and whirl, silent as their counterparts in space. For now, he’s content watching the swirl of galaxies in his ceiling, ignoring the ache throbbing like a dull hum throughout his body from the tips of his fingers to…

No, it’s best not to think about it.

If he was an idiot, he wouldn’t have expected anything from a bunch of angry yakuza who stoop low enough to kidnap his sisters. The usual routine comes with photos of them, hanging from ropes and a demand— _compensation,_ they call it—quite an unreasonably large sum of money.

At first he thought they were just bluffing. It’s not like he’s not done this before, it’s only that no one has ever seen the potential in his sisters (with how chatty Mairu is and Kururi’s frigid stare, he doesn’t see how anyone could tolerate them for long) as being worthy of bait. There isn’t much that deters Orihara Izaya, including the kidnapping of his sisters from their high school.

All goes according to how he lays it out. A little charm, irritation masked with a purr, and before long his sisters are let go.

The first step he took into that warehouse, he remembers now with the dulled sense of aching pounding through his spine, was doomed from the start.

It involves sweat, skin on skin and knives tearing away at his clothes, his flesh right in front of his sisters they don’t scream because they only _watch_ instead. They watch, wide-eyed and he bets they’re just going through the motions, bored already wanting to go home and slam the door in his face like his head slams into concrete while his knife is plucked from his fingers and held at his throat. Five of them and one of him, there’s no possible way to escape when he’s already down.

One of them grabs his phone, toying with it. He can’t get it open, not with the password on it too long for his simple brain and Izaya’s beloved human destroys it under the sole of his shoe, too close to Izaya’s face to not cut him with the metal and plastic springing from the collision. Most of it remains intact, only long thin shards scratch his face as the remains of his phone lie on the floor.

The feel of a shoe pressing down on his throat, embedded with glass shards ripping into his pale flesh with cutting ease and contributing to the collection of blood trickling, doesn’t quite register as something malicious in his head. Mairu and Kururi are bound once again, held down and sharp and clear in his head the ringleader says _don’t scream_ or he’ll rape them both before they find themselves in pieces in the Tokyo Bay.

Izaya, much to the twins’ surprise—

“—Iza-nii…are you there?”

At the sound of their name, he pulls the sheets around him tighter, knees folding into his chest and he doesn’t want them to _see_ what he’s become when he—

Kururi’s murmurs fade behind the door, senseless noises as this routine starts again. Knocking on his door, asking if he’s okay, threatening to pick the lock even though they never do.

“We brought you something to eat, Iza-nii.” Mairu speaks up again, soft and gentle, unlike her sadistic personality and worthy of laughing at, if he had the will to. “You can just…We’ll leave it outside your door, okay?” He thinks maybe the okay wavers like she’s holding something back, dipping into the territory of uncertainty and unsteady concern.

He doesn’t answer them, hasn’t for the time since being thrown to the floor, glass shards in his throat and the twins watching him as his clothes are torn to shreds, knives littering open spots of his body with punctures and cuts. They try to bleed him alive, he figures as he stills his breaths and tries not to think about it at all, it’s only a game they’re playing and if it’s a show of dominance they want then he’ll play along until there’s an opening. It’s easy, calculating the way out and and and he doesn’t have to worry, there’s no reason to be anxious when hands reach for his belt and tie his hands with it.

“Iza-nii…we…wait…” (Iza-nii, we haven’t seen you in so long.) Kururi’s voice is a little louder, most likely at Mairu’s insistence and there’s no more soft knocking, just gentle tones of his sisters parroting the only words of comfort they know.

He doesn’t want that, doesn’t need it when on the concrete the men laugh as they force his jaw open and he hears the sound of zippers and squirms, shot in the leg without warning and it tears a yelp from him when he’s not _trying_ to get himself killed. Only before he knows it something hot and hard is tearing into him, his mouth stuffed with the musky smell and taste of sleazy ways to take control over someone with their pride and ego, thrust into his mouth. 

The pain is unbearable. He doesn’t want them to know that, hearing the scrape of their laughter as the piercing ringing in his ears kicks in with a vengeance, exacerbated by the scream that rips through him. The same way another man’s achingly hard erection slams inside of him, hot and thick and too much, _too much_ to think or breathe let alone _move._

Once again, Mairu interrupts, unknowingly. “Shizuo-san called again, Iza-nii. We told him you’re tired.” 

Fleetingly he recalls that he hasn’t said a word to his boyfriend, not a one with his mouth full and lips zipped shut they take turns with him, slam him break him piece by piece and they’re hungry for more. He imagines what Shizuo would do, knowing of the warehouse and the forgotten apologies and locking himself in between the point of night and day so time only moves past him. It’s no way to live, but it doesn’t matter.

Izaya finds he can’t care about much of anything, not his humans he thinks he may not love with every recurring bout of flashbacks triggered by simply taking his eyes off of the ceiling of swirling galaxies and feeling the cold of his sheets under his bandaged hands. He remembers that three fingers are broken on his left hand and his thumb on his right pulls and tears to fall uselessly into his palm. It’s only the beginning of what they have planned, hot wet streaks of blood down his cheeks when knives cut into his tear ducts and demand him to beg like a bitch for mercy, for more cocks shoved inside of him until he’s bursting apart and there’s no chance for pulling himself up when they stab his hands into the floor.

“…Shizuo-san says he wants to see you, Iza-nii.” Mairu speaks up again, interrupting and always breaking the train of unfortunate events wrecking into one another. “Kuru-nee told him you’ll call him back.” She sounds odd, as if speaking around the subject all at once while denying it ever happened. Of course they would, it’s their only way to cope with the fact that their brother isn’t as invincible as he wants to be and with how little they care, it’s laughable.

But there’s no room for laughter, not with the bandages around his throat gently placed and pulled tight enough to keep the cuts from tearing open again. It’s best not to talk, as it would worsen them, seeing how screaming at night when he sleeps has been an effective method of staining his pillows red.

In his room, there is only this world of twilight with swirling galaxies, sleepless nights, and no need for boyfriends and sisters to see a god in the depths of tucking away every bruise and broken shred of dignity left in tatters. He’ll be fine, he muses to himself most of the time when he’s not lost in anxiety attacks leading to more memories.

“Iza-nii,” the twins are soft, pleading almost. “Please…we miss you so much.” Mairu does most of the talking while Kururi echoes, her voice already past the breaking point much like how much he can scream before his lungs threaten to collapse. It takes two more rounds, filthy and sweat filling his nose with the taste of acid burning on his tongue and inside of him where he’ll never get it out.

And if he thinks of one more thing, the girls pleading with them to just _leave him alone_ because Izaya isn’t supposed to be anything but an older brother who cares about them too much for his own good and they think it’s all their fault and let him blame them for as long as he wants. Only that’s the easy way out of pain and for Izaya, it’s never good enough as an alternative.

In the moments of silence that pass, he feels himself crumble, curling tighter into the ball of protection despite the ache it brings, it’s only been so long since, not even a month and he feels it all and everything else. He doesn’t hear the silent sniffles behind the door, unusual in sound since in the Orihara family, no one ever shows weakness.

And then feet patter back to his door, covered in silly toe socks that Izaya doesn’t see while they retrieve something, carried between them. Mairu knocks on the door again, loud enough to be heard but oh so quiet, afraid of doing more.

“Iza-nii,” she swallows a hiccup of his name, sounding so hopeful he doesn’t ever recall a sister like that. “W-We have something for you, we’ll leave it here,” and then something smooth and light touches the hardwood floor, like a glass jar from the sound of it leaving the twins’ fingers. Kururi murmurs something beseeching, her voice fading into the dullness of time and space trapped inside their older brother’s room.

They’re not done, Izaya finds as he listens to them and waits for them to leave, cynical and tired waiting to find solace in silence that never comes, thinking he’s not worth their efforts. 

“We love you, Iza-nii,” Mairu chimes, Kururi follows with her own version, heartfelt and too many words unspoken the moment the words leave their lips. 

_“We’re sorry.”_

It takes hours after they leave for Izaya to find the will to get up. Longer to actually pick himself up, blankets around his shoulders and his legs shaking like autumn leaves when he reaches his door, unlocks it and opens it.

In front of his feet is a glass jar, filled with upon further inspection, folded stars. Little colorful ones, folded neatly and put inside the jar. There’s no note, no explanation for why there’s a jar of stars and he doesn’t believe there’s an explanation for why his eyes start to leak onto his cheeks and drip to the floor. It tastes salty, running over his dried lips and it feels like something shattering inside of him.

When he returns to his bed, covered in more blankets and hidden from the rest of the world, his door is left open to two curious sets of feet, pattering inside with their toe socks in rainbow colors. Then the bed squeaks, shifting with the added weight of two who don’t take their time crawling under the sheets into the arms of their brother, reminding themselves to be careful.

They tell him Shizuo helped too, with the colorful stars, and he misses him but he won’t come if Izaya doesn’t want him to.

(It twists inside of his chest, dulled with arms struggling to fit around him, but maybe he’ll call Shizuo sometime.)

And he holds them close, hearing their apologies pressed over his wounds and he promises he’s not angry.

**Author's Note:**

> Hoo boy, this was a lot of fun. Another tumblr request, thank you to the anon who challenged me with this one (and then thought I wouldn't do it, how silly) because let's be honest, there are few things I wouldn't do. This is definitely not one of them.
> 
> Now, on a scale of one to your heart being ripped out, how bad was it? I mean, even Mama Shizuwan got upset. x)
> 
> Thank you for reading. ꒒ ০ ⌵ ୧ ♡


End file.
